


Ring

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Skybridger Word Generator Prompts [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dinner Date, Engagement, F/M, Fluff, Jedi Leia Organa, Jedi Padmé Amidala, M/M, Senator Anakin Skywalker, Star Wars AU - No Palpatine, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:53:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29811486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: The scarred side of his profile studies Luke as he stands in the middle of the hallway.  Luke pinches his brows together, awaiting an explanation for why they stopped so abruptly.  The guards posted at the door, while out of sight for the moment, would be confused at the unexpected holdup.Father states, “you have plans.”“Um,” Luke fixates on a spot of the wall by Father’s nose, “why would you think that?”
Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Luke Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Skybridger Word Generator Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980082
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Ring

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve wanted to do this AU for so long! Let me know what you think!

“-teach those blasted envoys what it is to rumble in the sand dunes of Tatooine,” Father rampages after an unproductive Senate session. 

Luke remains quiet as they approach Father’s designated office space. At their arrival, Father falls into a clouded silence. 

Luke permits himself to speak. “Do you need me to assist you with any paperwork tonight, Father?”

Since Father is a scatterbrain, Luke is his right hand man. Or son. Or whatever the term is for the fact that Luke is a Senator’s son and helps on all legal matters.

Father halts in his tracks. His soft blue robes, meant as a callback to cold desert nights on Tatooine, swish and still. The bun fastening his long curly hair hangs so low on Father’s neck that it could unfurl in a single wind gust. 

The scarred side of his profile studies Luke as he stands in the middle of the hallway. Luke pinches his brows together, awaiting an explanation for why they stopped so abruptly. The guards posted at the door, while out of sight for the moment, would be confused at the unexpected holdup.

Father states, “you have plans.”

“Um,” Luke fixates on a spot of the wall by Father’s nose, “why would you think that?”

“Your tone,” Father observes, squinting at the lack of eye contact. “I can borrow Senator Organa’s assistant for the night.”

Luke clamps his mouth shut in deep thought. He doesn’t want to inconvenience his Father when he can reschedule the night off with-

“It’s settled,” Father says curtly, garnering Luke’s attention at last, “you have tonight off. You deserve it. Enjoy your plans.”

The way the last sentence clips worries Luke. Before Father can jerk away, Luke says, “Father!”

Father turns from his forward stride, pausing as he sighs, “it’s fine, Luke.”

“It doesn’t seem to be,” Luke emphasizes, wanting to scream at Father’s ability to communicate both well and not well enough, “so what’s going on?”

He realizes his voice is raised and someone may have overheard him. He doesn’t cower, however, and stands his ground.

Father faces Luke in the hallway. If he is surprised by the outburst, he gives no indication.

He clasps his hands in front of his Senate robes. “Luke,” he says carefully, “you have a date with my Jedi protector. You know I’m okay with it.”

Luke scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”

While Luke was straightforward and honest with Father about his relationship to Ezra, something was clearly amiss. Father stayed away from expressing his opinion on Ezra, since he knows Luke disregards slander, but it had to bubble to the surface eventually. Is now the time he’s been waiting for?

Father frowns, not rising to the bait. He struggles visibly, though, to mind his tongue.

“Don’t. Worry. About. Me.” Father enunciates each word with a long pause. “I’m a foolish old man who wants my son to be safe and happy. Alright?”

The genuineness to Father’s words breaks through to Luke. Father has always been overprotective. 

Luke breathes deeply in relief. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, Father. Good night.”

“Good night,” Father says, turning his back to Luke. The two guards posted at the office door secure him inside the room.

Luke goes in the direction in which they came and walks unaccompanied to his own room.

When he unlocks his door, he is surprised to see Ezra already inside, setting up a table for two.

Ezra’s hand freezes near a flower vase set in the middle, and he smiles sheepishly. “Heh.” His copper skin takes on a blush. “I wasn’t ready!”

Luke studies the table settings. The fork and knife are on the wrong side. The flowers in the vase are wilted. The bowls are the chipped ones, which Luke brought out when he isn’t expecting company. While the lace pattern is pleasant, the oldness of the ceramic is apparent to anyone with eyes.

But none of the imperfection matters. Luke’s mouth quirks into a smile. The door seals itself shut as he walks towards the table. “What’s all this?”

“Um,” Ezra’s affection gleams as Luke approaches, “surprise? I-I’m making dinner for you.”

Oh. Luke understands Father’s behavior now.

“Yeah?” Luke beams, only having eyes for Ezra. “My father had something to do with this, didn’t he?”

“He was just meant to distract you for a minute,” Ezra says innocently. “Why? Did he put on a little show?”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Oh, he sure did.” He pushes up on tiptoes to kiss Ezra’s beard as a hello. Once he’s level again, he catches a waft of spices emanating from the kitchen, as well as Ezra’s natural perfume. Ezra always smells like a bank of water lilies beside a stream.

He can’t believe Father would act so strangely to keep Luke from arriving at his own apartment. 

Actually, he can believe it.

“Let me freshen up,” Luke says curtly, walking towards his bedroom, “I look a mess.” He’d been wearing the same robes for fourteen hours. He usually got to wash or change his outfit on long shifts, but not this time.

Ezra’s voice catches Luke’s attention as he reaches the door. “You could never.”

Luke pauses for a brief beat, concealing a blush. Ezra notes the movement. 

Then, Luke walks into his bedroom. He strips off the Senate robes that match Father’s, the same shade of light blue yet a more form-fitting style. Luke dresses in an orange sweater, dark leggings, and thick socks. Coruscant tends to run cold in the evenings, no matter if the panoramic windows are closed or if the air circulation is shut off. Though everything is cold, especially for a boy who spent his childhood on Tatooine with razor thin blood.

Luke removes gel product from his hair, washes his face, and wipes off a layer of makeup. While makeup wasn’t required in a Senate session, it helped Luke’s mind associate makeup with work and a fresh face as being himself. He shakes out his hair so that it falls naturally to his shoulders.

Finished, Luke returns to the main area of his apartment. Ezra set a steaming pot of stew on the counter, ladling the spicy mixture into each bowl. As the steam emanates, spreading the aroma across the room, Ezra meets Luke’s eyes.

“I hope this is okay,” Ezra says, “I didn’t get off from my shift as early as planned, so I-”

“It’s wonderful,” Luke walks to the counter, smiling at the bearded man, “thank you.”

He is careful in curling his palms around the bowl. He tilts away from the heady steam spewing from the surface. He walks with a carefully-balanced gait to the table. He sets the bowl at the farther table setting and gets comfortable. Ezra brings his own bowl and proceeds to levitate drinks to them.

Luke snorts fondly. “Jedi aren’t supposed to be showy.”

The drinks are set beside the bowls. Ezra sits and says playfully, “my Master and Grandmaster aren’t here to scold me.”

Luke picks up his spoon, regarding the stew. “But they’re taking over your duties for tonight, aren’t they?”

Ezra hums in affirmation. “There should always be two guarding the building. And Kanan wanted to spend time with Grandmaster Billaba, anyway.”

“Ah,” Luke recalls, tasting a delightful spoonful, “she just returned from a diplomatic mission on Mandalore, right?”

“Yes,” Ezra sips his drink, “and she was on our respective planets before that.”

Lothal is a touchy subject for Ezra. Similar to Mandalore, Lothal has endured decades of civil war. Unstable planets often fell victim to crime lords, the way Hutts ruled Tatooine before Father imprisoned them for illegal slavery. Interest in Lothal has grown exponentially, but Ezra’s past there still haunts him. Luke expects that being uprooted as a Force user, taken as an orphan by Senator Organa, and trained as a Jedi bodyguard would do that to someone.

Luke hides his thoughts with stew. “Your cooking is wonderful, as always.”

“Thank you,” Ezra brushes off the compliment. “Do you know when your mother and sister are due to return?”

“They’re coming back for the solstice,” Luke says breezily. “Father is getting antsier by the day.”

Mother and Leia, like Master Billaba, are traveling Jedi diplomats. They resolve any disputes that arise across the galaxy, gone for months at a time. It is a promise from the Jedi Temple that Mother and Leia return to Coruscant on solstices, one of Father’s...less conflicting agreements. Luke supposes if the Jedi could allow his parents to marry, they could allow families to remain united.

“I wouldn’t know to do with myself if I were your Father,” Ezra says, “I’d probably crack faster than him if you were gone for too long.”

Luke hums in agreement with Ezra’s sentiment. “I’ve grown just as used to sensing you in this building as you have of me.”

His Force abilities aren’t common knowledge, but Luke couldn’t exactly hide them from Ezra. His training was only in basic concealment and detection of other Force sensitives. Luke readily admits that he basks in Ezra’s warm Force presence, no matter their differing locations in the skyscraper, and Ezra doesn’t exactly mind it.

Luke finishes his bowl of stew as Ezra does. He feels like he has spent far too much time contemplating in his head.

As Luke searches his mind for a topic, Ezra says, “speaking of us.” He stops himself, garnering Luke’s gaze.

Ezra stands up straighter, peering over the flower in its vase. In the empty space on one side of the table, he lays out his hand. He moves his fingers so his palm is open.

Flickering from Ezra’s beard to the hand, Luke drops his palm into Ezra’s. The smile beneath his beard knocks Luke’s breath out of his lungs.

“Luke Naberrie-Skywalker,” Ezra says, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. My life has seen turmoil, strife, and instability. But everything becomes so simple when I look in your eyes. None of it matters a fraction as much to me as your unconditional love.”

“I,” Luke bats his lashes, mind reeling, “why are you telling me this?”

Ezra is amused by the question. Without breaking their hands apart, his other arm retrieves an item from his pants pocket. It comes under and over the opposite side of the table.

A box is unlatched. A golden ring rests inside the cushion.

A tear, thick and hot, slips down Luke’s cheek. He doesn’t even remember his eyes watering.

“Hey hey hey,” Ezra brings Luke’s knuckles to his lips, sending his emotions to a careening halt, “no need for that.”

Luke laughs wetly. “You started it.”

Ezra chuckles, kissing Luke’s hand again. He delights in the bristle of a beard touching his skin. “I suppose I did.” He holds the hand against his cheek. “Does this mean you’ll marry me?”

“I don’t recall you asking,” Luke teases, sniffling as his tear fades.

“Luke, my love,” Ezra asks gently, “will you marry me?”

“Hm,” Luke smiles and takes his hand back, “let me think for a minute.” 

He rises, grasping the jewelry box. The offering is a golden band with no inscription or adornments. Simple. Something to match any outfit.

“I didn’t think you’d get me a ring,” Luke says, partly to himself and partly to Ezra as a joke.

“No?” Ezra conceals his discomfort at the contemplation well, but Luke couldn’t help himself. He likes to play with his food.

“No,” Luke agrees. His gaze shifts from the ring to Ezra sitting at the table. “I do hope you know you didn’t have to go out of your way to a jewelry store.”

“I didn’t have to go anywhere,” Ezra says shyly, “that ring was my mother’s.”

Luke freezes. He gawks at the ring, studying it more closely. There are chips where the metal had rusted and flaked at the curves. It had been repainted, but the differences to the shiny metal are apparent. It had plenty of opportunities to have been fixed, but that would be wiping the ring of its history. The ring has seen war, shifts in galactic policies, and travelled from planet to planet to get here. 

And Ezra was giving it to him?

“No more crying, love,” Ezra says gently from the table. Luke realizes his eyes were misting over, so he blinks away the moisture. “I’ve kept it in a box of my personal items. I wore it on a chain when I was younger, but once I met you, I wanted to hide it away, save it for you.”

“You knew,” Luke struggles to whisper through a lump in his throat, “even years ago, you knew I was the one who’d wear this?”

Ezra smiles. “Of course.”

It took Luke longer than that to know, though he supposes he was more cautious than Ezra. Letting someone into the life of a Senator’s son was a risk, especially when that son was so integral in Father’s team.

That assurance all Luke needs to know. It’s all he needs to close the distance.

Dropping into Ezra’s lap, Luke sets the box on the table and takes out the ring. Holding the hand between their chests, Luke slips on the ring. He beams at Ezra. “Yes.”

“And you said I’m showy?” Ezra snickers, tipping his head up.

“I’m honored to wear this ring,” Luke says, booping Ezra’s nose. “Now help me clean.”

Ezra pouts. With his beard, it only makes him look silly. It takes all of Luke’s willpower not to bust out laughing in Ezra’s lap.

“The faster you help me clean,” Luke emphasizes, “the faster we can have some fun.”

“Oh,” Ezra blinks at the suggestion, then pushes Luke away, “that’s all you had to say. Let’s go. Quick quick quick!”

Luke snorts and stands. Ezra gets up from the table to hastily gather the bowls and silverware. Luke chuckles at him.

-

When Luke’s alarm goes off that morning, he groans. Ezra just so happened to spread out around him like a cuddly teddy bear the mornings after they were intimate. His tangled limbs and heavy snoring form made it difficult for Luke to leave the bed. Or want to.

The alarm is suddenly silenced. Blinking blearily, Luke’s cheek rubs against Ezra’s shoulder. He peers atop a hairy chest to see Ezra’s hand lifted and pinched, as if twisting a radio dial. The Force trembles at the clear manipulation.

The hand drops, and Luke’s gaze drifts upwards. He struggles to look past the thick beard that bruised Luke’s face, but he was too elated to care. Ezra’s eyes are a dazzling deep blue, tired yet intense.

His voice, however, comes out slow, a rumbling rockslide. “We have the morning off.”

Luke’s eyes widen. “How’d you manage that?”

“Did it ever occur to you,” Ezra says sleepily, “that our families are as dedicated to our happiness as we are for each other?”

At what that implies, Luke holds his breath. Whether his body acts on its own accord or he plans it, he melts into Ezra’s side. Ezra notices it instantly, the shift in body language. His eyes do not even blink.

“You asked permission,” Luke says softly.

Ezra bobs his head once. “From all of them.”

Father. Mother. And even Leia.

Luke swallows thickly. The arm he slung over Ezra’s stomach trails upwards on its own. A fingertip trails from Ezra’s navel, past the valley of his chest, and stops when cradling a bristly cheek. Luke shifts so his head could hover above Ezra’s, then dips down. 

One kiss leads to dozens more. Luke smiles. He has all morning to lose himself in his fiancé.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
